On April 18, 2019, journalist Lyra McKee was shot and killed during riots in Derry. The bullet that struck her was fired by a member of the New Irish Republican Army (NIRA). Shortly after, the dissident Republican group published an apology, claiming that it was engaging heavily armed “British Crown Forces” and that “in the course of attacking the enemy, Lyra McKee was tragically killed while standing beside enemy forces”1. Her death sent shockwaves through Northern Ireland and beyond and prompted trans-communal condemnation and a rare joint statement by the loyalist DUP and the Irish nationalist Sinn Féin. Likewise, the New Irish Republican Army’s (NIRA) statement was quickly dismissed as hollow and bearing no remorse for the death of McKee. The statement was indicative of something far greater, however. The apology did not offer remorse over the fact that a person was shot to death during the riots, it offered remorse over who was shot that day, claiming that the group would issue greater caution when engaging “the enemy” in the future, something one might interpret as “sorry, we intended to shoot someone else” and “next time, we will make sure to kill the right person”. The underlying assumption is clear, which is that potentially deadly violence in Northern Ireland is still regarded as just and legitimate by certain groups, even several decades after the signing of the Good Friday Agreement.
This interpretation is not far-fetched, given that Lyra McKee was killed the same year as a car bomb exploded in front of a courthouse in Derry and the NIRA announced a renewed armed struggle against British presence in Northern Ireland. Loyalist paramilitary groups have similarly been gaining strength again. Arguably, Loyalist paramilitary groups today are considered to resemble criminal gangs engaged in drug trafficking and extortion. Violence is also rarely crossing community lines and mostly directed at defaulting debtors, rivalling criminal gangs or even other Loyalist groups and subchapters competing for territory and market share. Nonetheless, the two largest groups, the Ulster Volunteer Force and the Ulster Defence Association, today count around 12.000 members and generate an estimated annual income of 3.000.000 £ in “membership fees” alone.2 It is also these groups that have continuously hinted at the return of large-scale sectarian violence and perhaps pose the most imminent threat to peace in Northern Ireland. But how do these dissident groups engage in the construction of collective victimhood narratives to justify their violent acts? What role does the temporal localisation of victimhood play in their justification, and what can academia learn from dissident perspectives for the research of collective victimhood?
Collective victimhood
In everyday language, we think of victims as those who have suffered directly at the hands of others. According to Noor et al., suffering can occur on a variety of dimensions.3 For instance, suffering can be inflicted physically through direct violence, materially via structural inequalities, and culturally through cultural deprivation and attempts at cultural extinction, but also psychologically, which usually results from harm or its anticipation. Yet victimhood is not always about personal experience. It is also about collective identity. People can see themselves as victims because they belong to a group with a shared history of suffering. The label „victim“ applies both to those who have suffered directly and to members of a national, ethnic, or religious group who identify with the pain of their community.4 Even without direct suffering, individuals can feel the weight of historical trauma, experiencing a sense of vulnerability and fear that reinforces their co-victimhood. This collective mindset, which is shaped by a perceived intentional harm inflicted upon a group by another, has been defined by Bar-Tal and colleagues as “collective victimhood”5. It can refer to both present and distant past suffering and even to partially fictional events anchored in collective memory. Accordingly, even individuals or social groups that have generally been perceived as perpetrators in a conflict can claim the status of victim and may even be accepted as such.6
Collective victimhood requires the existence of clear social identities and strong ingroup identification. The more people identify with their community, the more likely they are to adopt and reinforce victimhood beliefs.7 But this relationship is not one-directional. Once established, victimhood narratives help consolidate social identities, making them even more deeply entrenched. The persistence of collective victimhood is driven by multiple factors. In long and intractable conflicts – like in Northern Ireland – people experience not only physical violence but also psychological wounds that do not heal easily. Thus, conflicts create an urgent need for a coherent explanation of suffering. Narratives of victimhood provide a framework for making sense of the past, providing scenarios and shaping expectations about the future, and even shielding individuals from the mental toll of conflict.
Competitive victimhood and conflict
Beyond shaping emotions and identities, victimhood is also a strategic asset that can yield political benefits. A group seen as the victim often enjoys moral legitimacy, external sympathy, and protection from criticism. In some cases, victimhood becomes something to be claimed and defended rather than overcome, which seems paradoxical, given that the alleged purpose of victimhood narratives is to prevent further suffering. Given its strategic use, scholars often describe victimhood as a social resource that groups compete for, thus distinguishing between more inclusive and more exclusive or competitive forms of victimhood beliefs.
Inclusive victimhood beliefs emphasise common experiences of suffering, fostering empathy, solidarity, and reconciliation. By recognising commonalities with other victimised groups, individuals may develop broader moral responsibility, supporting peace and forgiveness. However, selective inclusive victimhood – where solidarity is extended only to certain groups – can limit its reconciliatory potential. In contrast, competitive victimhood reinforces division by portraying one’s group as the primary or sole victim, often justifying hostility and perpetuating conflict. This dynamic is further exacerbated by internal group pressure, which discourages acknowledging one’s own wrongdoing or questioning dominant narratives.
Collective victimhood is highly performative – meaning that victim narratives and identity need constant maintenance. This process unfolds through societal institutions, public discourse, and cultural traditions, from memorials and education to speeches and media representations.8
Collective victimhood and dissident violence in Northern Ireland
What does this need for maintenance mean for the prevalence of collective victimhood in Northern Ireland, given the fact that one can witness a significant change in the conflict’s dynamics following the signing of the Good Friday Agreement? While shootings, bombings, and incendiary attacks were frequent during the Troubles, they have decreased significantly in the post-Agreement period and have steadily declined over the past two decades. This reduction in violence is also reflected in the number of casualties. Between 1969 and 1998, the Troubles claimed 3.289 lives, while the police recorded a much lower figure of 116 security-related deaths between 1999 and 2024.
One could now assume that the drastic decline of sectarian conflict would challenge the preservation of collective victimhood narratives. This, however, cannot be confirmed for Northern Ireland, at least as far as the above-mentioned dissident sections of society are concerned. In my analysis of dissident Loyalist and Republican discourses,9 I found that suffering and experiences of victimisation as well as notions of exclusive collective victimhood continue to feature prominently in the discourses of both dissident Loyalists and dissident Republicans. The reference to past sectarian violence is a recurring theme and is usually linked to the justification of ingroup violent actions that are consequently often framed as an act of necessary self-defence. In the Loyalist discourse, the narrative of suffering under Republican violence and physical suffering in general plays an increasingly insignificant role. Instead, contemporary events and dynamics are continually incorporated into the canon of the Loyalist theme of suffering and victimisation.
A new theme: Cultural suffering
In this context, the theme of cultural suffering has increasingly taken centre stage, often portrayed as a deliberate erosion of Unionist/Loyalist identity. With the Good Friday Agreement and the ensuing peace process being framed as a vehicle for Irish Nationalism to weaken the Unionist position within Northern Ireland, there is a prevalent theme of a “culture war” aimed at the “de-Britification” of Northern Ireland.10 Key issues include restrictions on traditional Unionist symbols, such as parades, flags, and bonfires, and policies such as the Irish Language Act, which is portrayed as an attempt to impose Irish culture on the Unionist/Loyalist community.
This fear of cultural deprivation is deeply intertwined with concerns over Northern Ireland’s constitutional position within the United Kingdom. In this respect, the peace process is often perceived not as a mechanism for reconciliation but for the gradual weakening of ties with the United Kingdom and, ultimately, Irish unity. The underlying assumption of dissident Loyalism is that every process has a beginning and an end, and that the end point envisaged by the peace process is a referendum on a United Ireland.11 This fear reflects, to some extent, the changing demographic and political realities in Northern Ireland, in which the Unionist community perceives itself to be in an increasingly precarious situation.12 In this discourse of dissident Loyalism, the end of the Union is equated with the cultural extinction of Unionism/Loyalism, as its identity is seen as fundamentally dependent on Northern Ireland’s status within the UK.
The significance of Brexit in dissident Loyalism
A driving factor behind these fears is the belief that any compromise on the UK’s sovereignty over Northern Ireland – particularly any form of special status such as Northern Ireland remaining within the European Union Customs Union – sets a dangerous precedent. Brexit has amplified the anxieties, particularly through post-Brexit agreements such as the Irish Backstop and its successor, the Northern Ireland Protocol. These agreements allegedly create a de facto sea border between Northern Ireland and the rest of the UK, shifting economic ties towards the Republic of Ireland and ultimately paving the way for Irish unity. The creation of the so-called “Irish Sea Border” is thus framed not just as a logistical issue but as an existential threat to the constitutional integrity of the United Kingdom, opening the door for further attempts to dismantle the Union. This theme further portrays the European Union and the Irish government as “colluding” with Irish Nationalism in pushing dissident Loyalism “into a corner”13 by actively conspiring to undermine Northern Ireland’s constitutional position in the United Kingdom and eradicating British identity from the island. This sentiment of being pushed into a corner perhaps carries the greatest potential for mobilising ingroup support and even justifying political, and perhaps violent, action.
Anticipated victimisation by cultural deprivation
While this victimisation by cultural deprivation and cultural extinction has not yet unfolded, the anticipated suffering and victimisation have taken on a central role in the discourse of dissident Loyalists. Most strikingly, the return of large-scale sectarian violence is hinted at as a possible and justified response in the discourse of dissident Loyalists, should this suffering unfold. These implicit threats should come as no surprise, however, as Unionist/Loyalist identities are not only shaped by a British national identity and the desire to freely express and live it out. Rather, Unionist/Loyalist identity and culture are inextricably and by definition bound up with and fundamentally dependent on Northern Ireland remaining part of the United Kingdom.
Collective victimhood in dissident Republicanism
As for the dissident Republican community, the theme of British occupation and oppression remains central to the discourse of collective victimhood. While past suffering is often referenced, it is also depicted as an ongoing reality, as dissident Republicanism emphasises the ongoing persecution of the community’s members by the PSNI, sometimes assisted by the British military or MI5. Maghaberry Prison,14 for instance, is portrayed as a site of systemic abuse and described as an “MI5-run torture camp”15 where Republican inmates, labelled as prisoners of war, allegedly endure movement control, isolation, strip searches, beatings, and denial of medical care. These grievances are closely linked to allegations of police brutality, with PSNI operations described as attacks and raids on Irish communities aimed at suppressing Republican activism.
Psychological harm is the main focus in these narratives, often taking precedence over physical suffering. The accounts highlight the emotional toll of constant surveillance, intimidation, and alleged targeting of activists’ families. MI5 is accused of directing police operations and attempting to recruit informants, while state institutions are portrayed as using legal mechanisms to harass Republicans through arbitrary detentions and arrests, social service interventions, and the freezing of financial assets. These claims of material and psychological suffering construct a broader discourse of systemic repression, reinforcing the perception of an ongoing and justified struggle against British occupation of (Northern) Ireland.
Dissident Republican discourse, unlike its dissident Loyalist counterpart, is not primarily concerned with anticipated suffering but focuses on present-day victimisation, which is reflected in more urgent and less ambiguous calls for political action and resistance. Although the evocation of past suffering as a means of constructing a collective victimhood has largely been abandoned, the language employed is aimed at drawing parallels with memories of the past and historical grievances. This is reflected in the fact that Northern Ireland remaining part of the United Kingdom is referred to as “ongoing occupation”, the PSNI is referred to as “Crown Forces” or Royal Ulster Constabulary,16 and the Republic of Ireland is dubbed the “Free State”17. The use of language not only reinforces the idea that current suffering is not the result of isolated events, but a continuation of British imperial oppression. In this way, it can justify political action and violent resistance to the British presence and institutions in Northern Ireland.
Marginalisation of dissident Republican narratives
At the same time, one must question the sustainability of these narratives, given that they have proven to be less adept at adapting to changing conflict dynamics and incorporating new narratives. One might further question whether these dissident Republican narratives resonate with the intended audience, whose problems and grievances have changed over time. While the dissident Loyalist discourse is largely consistent with the overall Unionist/Loyalist discourse and understanding of suffering and victimisation, the discourse of dissident Republicans differs greatly from that of mainstream Irish Nationalism. Sinn Féin and the Social Democratic and Labour Party, for instance, have campaigned heavily on the issue of Brexit, often arguing that the Irish community in Northern Ireland is being forced out of the European Union against its own will, whereas dissident Republicanism almost completely refrains from referring to issues related to Brexit.
The continuity of this discourse may be explained by the maximalist aims of revolutionary dissident Republicanism. Neither have the aims of dissident/anti-Treaty Republicans changed significantly over the last 100 years, nor has the perceived context of the conflict and therefore the threats of harm changed in the eyes of dissident Republicanism. This is reflected in the fact that neither Irish membership in the EU has ever been endorsed by revolutionary Irish Republicanism, nor has Northern Ireland remaining in the United Kingdom – regardless of whether the Irish border is “hard” or “soft” and regardless of the personal and economic freedoms that joint Irish and British membership in the EU offers – ever been an acceptable scenario for dissident Republicans.
What we can learn from dissident perspectives on collective victimhoodThere are a number of lessons to be gained from examining the construction of collective victimhood in dissident Loyalist and Republican discourses. Generally, both discourses underscore the enduring capacity of narratives of collective victimhood to justify political violence. The case of Lyra McKee’s killing exemplifies how such narratives shape perceptions of “just violence”, in which attacks on perceived enemies are framed as necessary and legitimate despite civilian harm. This logic remains deeply embedded in dissident groups that actively maintain and adapt victimhood identities to justify political action and therefore pose an ongoing challenge to peace and reconciliation in Northern Ireland. Both dissident Loyalist and Republican discourses further demonstrate that the capability of a narrative to serve as justification for political action and perhaps even violence is contingent on the temporal localisation of the alleged suffering. Narratives of past suffering are mainly suited to underline demands such as for reparations and the punishment of perpetrators, but also to legitimise the ingroup’s involvement in violent conflict. Conversely, narratives of present or anticipated suffering have a far greater capacity to mobilise the ingroup and to legitimise extraordinary measures, as the suffering could potentially be avoided through concerted and resolute action. While this might constitute a fairly novel approach to assessing collective victimhood, social psychology could benefit from a greater focus on the temporality of suffering as expressed in victimhood narratives. In this regard, the question of who engages in these discourses and to what ends should be emphasised. As for the case of Northern Ireland, few studies have engaged with dissident perspectives on collective victimhood. This represents a significant shortcoming insofar as the discourses have proven to deviate strongly from mainstream discourses in some cases, while it is these dissident communities that are most likely to (re)engage in violent political action.
1 The Guardian, “Lyra McKee: woman, 57, arrested over journalist’s killing,” 2019.
2 Allison Morris, “Loyalist paramilitary groups raking in £250,000 a month in members ‘dues’,” The Irish News, 2020.
3 Masi Noor et al., “When suffering begets suffering: the psychology of competitive victimhood between adversarial groups in violent conflicts,” Personality and
social psychology review. Inc 16, no. 4 (2012): 356f.
4 Marie Breen-Smyth, “Suffering, Victims and Survivors in the Northern Ireland Conflict: Definitions, Policies, and Politics,” in Victimhood and Acknowledgement,
ed. Petra Terhoeven (De Gruyter, 2018), p. 44.
5 Bar-Tal, Daniel, Chernyak-Hai, Lily, Schori, Noa, and Gundar, Ayelet. “A sense of self-perceived collective victimhood in intractable conflicts.” International Review
of the Red Cross 91, no. 874 (2009): 229–258.
6 Andrew McNeill, Samuel Pehrson, and Clifford Stevenson, “The rhetorical complexity of competitive and common victimhood in conversational discourse,”
European Journal of Social Psychology 47, no. 2 (2017): 167.
7 H. Tajfel and J. C. Turner, “The Social Identity Theory of Intergroup Behavior,” in Psychology of Intergroup Relation, eds. S. Worchel and W. G. Austin
(Chicago: Hall Publishers, 1986).
8 Anthony Giddens, Modernity and self-identity: Self and society in the late modern age (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1991), p. 54.
9 The study was conducted in the context of a master’s thesis and aimed at analysing in how far collective victimhood narratives of dissident Loyalist and dissident
Republican actors have become detached from past experiences of suffering and instead been permeated by themes related to contemporary events. Using a mixedmethods
research design, it examined the discourses as represented in the editorial articles of the Loyalist blog Unionist Voice, whose founder and editor is known
to be linked to the UVF paramilitary group, and the news section of the dissident Republican party Saoradh, which holds a socialist revolutionary viewpoint and is
widely believed to be the political arm of the New Irish Republican Army.
10 Unionist Voice, “EDITORIAL: Unionism/loyalism must withdraw support for the Belfast Agreement to save the Union,” 2021.
11 As provided for in the Northern Ireland Act 1998, which is an underpinning statute of the Good Friday Agreement
12 In the census of 2001, around 43.8% of respondents stated they were or were brought up Catholic while 53.1% had a Protestant or other Christian community
background. In the 2021 census, however, 45,7% of Northern Ireland’s residents reported a Catholic and only 43,5% a Protestant/other Christian community back
ground. Furthermore, following the restoration of devolution in 2024, the Northern Ireland Assembly for the first time will be led by a Nationalist first minister.
13 Unionist Voice, “Academics like Professor Pete Shirlow are out of touch with current loyalist thinking,” Unionist Voice, 2019, https://unionistvoice.com/news/
outoftouchacademics/.
14 HM Prison Maghaberry, a high security prison in Northern Ireland
15 Saoradh, “End The Extradition Of Ciarán Maguire,” 2021, https://saoradh.irish/saoradh-nuacht/f/end-the-extradition-of-ciar%C3%A1n-maguire, accessed
August 2024.
16 Police force in Northern Ireland from 1922 to 2001, before it was succeeded by the PSNI. It played a major role in the Troubles and was criticised for alleged
one-sided policing and sectarianism as nearly all of its members were Protestant.
17 The “Irish Free State” existed from 1922 to 1937 as a dominion of the British Empire.